Bone Control
by Jive22
Summary: There is that one moment in your life, when perceptions are changed forever. I never understood how someone could become sickened at the sight of food. In my sixth year, I finally learned how. My name is Hermione Jean Granger, and this is my story. This is my story of how I succumbed to Ana's will.


Chapter 1- Prologue

There are things in life, which seems unfathomable. I used to think that supermodels were crazy, and all who strove to be like them. I just didn't understand why anyone would put themselves through an eating disorder. I didn't understand how someone could grow to fear food. I didn't understand how they felt like they were in control and strong if they resisted eating. It seemed incredibly farfetched to me.

My name is Hermione Jean Granger. I am a sixth year Gryffindor. I am the top of my class, friends with the most popular kids in school, and I have a bright future ahead of me at this point in time. There was always one chink in my perfect armor, my looks. I am a short, stocky, bushy brown haired, and plain eyed woman. I have always strived for perfection, but I never could look the part for all of my brains.

I remember in my muggle health class back in elementary school. In the month of October in my fifth year, we went over eating disorders. I remember thinking how sad it was that someone would do that to themselves, I couldn't comprehend why they would. Later on in my life, in my sixteenth year to be exact, I finally understood it. It took a few years, some heartbreak, and a lot of soul searching. I had finally achieved awareness. How I wish I didn't.

My name is Hermione Jean Granger, and this is the story of how I became anorexic.

"Mom! Dad! Come on!" I yelled out of my bedroom, "Help me with my bags. MOM! Where is Crookshanks?" My parents entered the room at a calm walk. They take one look at me and roll their eyes.

"Hermione, dear, your cat is in its cage. You had packed him three minutes ago. You are two hours ahead of schedule. Now, quit fretting, and make yourself look presentable." She eyes me distastefully. I hate it when she does that. I feel like she is trying to make me feel small. It is very condescending. My mother, Jean, graduated top of her high school, was incredibly popular, dated the captain of the football team, and is STILL incredibly good looking. I swear there isn't anything she couldn't do, and I feel like she finds perverse pleasure in rubbing my nose in the fact that I will never lead a near as charmed life that she does. "-and I'd think you should use some blush." I shake my head quickly, trying to rid the cobwebs. I guess I zoned out a bit. Hopefully she doesn't notice. I hate having to deal with THAT dressing down. It is just so hard to pay attention when she is telling me how to pretty like her. I wonder why.

Mother finally leaves my room, after another long winded speech on how to make myself prettier for boys. God. I have to seriously think about refraining from eyerolls when she speaks. I don't really care what boys think of me. If someone is shallow enough to judge me for my looks, I really don't want anything to do with them.

Nevertheless, I do check myself out in the mirror. It wouldn't do to look like a total slob. I turn to my full length mirror. I have always liked this mirror. It, along with all the other furniture in my room, came from my great-grandmother. She came to England from Germany when she was just 19 right before the First World War started. The dark wood mirror, vanity, dresser, and bed contrasted with my light lavender walls well. It was very comforting. However, my reflection was anything but. Now, I've e never really cared much about my weight, but I have no desire to become fat. I could tell I had picked up some weight this summer. I really have to ignore my dad when he wants to have a Twinkie fest with me. I swear I've gained at least five pounds. Normally this sort of thing doesn't bother me. I think it was because my mother just gave me an insulting speech on my appearance. This time was different from previous times I had notice I picked up weight. This time, I had a bad thought slip through my mind.

'_You are so ugly. Look at all that fat. No wonder your mother just insulted you.'_

"Hey honey, are you decent? I am just going to take your stuff to the car now if that is alright with you?" I hear my father's timid, warm voice call out to me from the other side of my bedroom door.

"Yea dad, come on in." I can't resist grinning. I do love my dad. I walk over to my dresser and pick out some clothes to wear while my dad took out my luggage. It wouldn't do to show up at platform 9 ¾ wearing my pj's. I pull out a random pair of blue jeans. I took off my sweatpants, and started to pull up my jeans.

'_What the hell?'_ My pants aren't fitting. I can't pull them over my thighs. I can feel myself start to freak out a bit. Maybe I gained more than just a few pounds. What am I going to do? All of my pants are a size two. This cannot be happening. I will not be able to stand the car ride with mother if I show up wearing sweatpants. I dive into my closet, looking for anything; my mother sometimes stores future clothes there. _'BINGO!' _My mother did buy a pair of jeans in size four, expecting me to grow taller. I quickly pull them up; they fit around the waist, but are a bit long on my leg. Thinking quickly, I snatch a pair of thick heeled combat boots from my closet. I've never worn them before, but they might make the pants seem less long, and not drag the ground.

My lower half dilemma being solved; I went back to my dresser to look for a decent shirt. I pull out my favorite maroon tank top. _'You can't wear that, your arms are exposed. Your arms look a little jiggly. Why don't you wear a sweater for now?'_ I frown and place the tank back. The little voice in my head was right. I should wear something loose and covering. I pull out a thin black long sleeve tee that is a size to big. That works for me. I fling it on. Of course, wouldn't you know it, my mother declares me to looking frumpy and that I really should've put make up on.

Two hours and one insufferable car ride later, my mother is finally out of my head for another year, and I am boarded on the most beautiful train known to mankind. Its beauty isn't one of appearances; it is the beauty of escaping to a new world. I loved growing up in my muggle home, but Hogwarts is now the only place my heart calls home. I cannot contain my excitement for my newest academic adventure.

There is no fear of war this year, my dearest bestest friend Harry took care of Voldemort last year in the ministry atrium. It was a hard fought battle, and completely spectacular to watch. Well, as spectacular as a terrifying battle can get. Harry may not always study the hardest, but he does display impressive talent and power. It is the most beautiful thing to watch. Either way, I am just glad I can have a year of schooling without fearing for anyone's life. A dramatic change in comparison with previous years, but one I fully intend to welcome with open arms.

I finally find Harry and Ron after walking through a couple of cars. I stand out in the hallway for a second. I just wanted to look at them for a moment. I have missed them so. The two of them are playing exploding snap on the floor. They are grinning like mad. Harry looks surprisingly happy, I would have thought Sirius's death would weigh on his mind a bit more. His hair had been cut down to about three inches, the scar was faded but in plain sight. His green eyes were as striking as ever, and he just looked incredibly handsome. I can't think of anything else to describe other then handsome. I could see his arm muscles clearly. His green v-neck tee just looked wonderful.

And it happens to be in the middle of my intense checking out, drool over Harry session, that Ron looks up and announce my presence with a cheerful smile and a loud yell of "HERMY!"

Kill me now please. I lay upon him my fiercest glare. Ron jumps up and opens the compartment door for me, completely ignoring my glare of a thousand deaths with a boisterous grin. I stroll in pointedly ignoring Ron, and I take a seat.

"Hello Harry, are you excited for the new year?" I greet him with a grin. He meets my eyes and gives me a broad smile back.

"I am pretty psyched. No dark lords. No more Dursley's. And I will have so many fan girls draping themselves all over my arms" Harry sends me a wink with a goofy grin. Insert my eyeroll here. "The only thing that will make this year perfect is if a certain know-it-all best friend of mine doesn't bother me about my homework!"

"Amen to that!" Ron gave a cheer of agreement with Harry, much to my displeasure. I can't help but grin though. I have missed those two. These silly teasings are nothing compared to my mother's. I roll my eyes yet again and reach over and slap Harry on the backside of his head lightly.

"Ow!" He said with a grumble, rubbing his head lightly.

I grinned. "Prat."

"Ron mate, I think Hermione should learn a lesson on how not irritate her best friends, what do you say mate?" I did not like the look that they shared. Not one bit.

Ron grinned back at Harry. "I agree good chap, I agree. I think she needs to be punished to the fullest." I eye them wearily.

"What in the devil are you to talking about?" I am sure I sounded pretty paranoid, but six years with those two screwballs have taught me that a suspicious nature normally pays off.

"My dear Mione, my good mate Ron here, and I are talking about TICKLE ATTACK!" With his battle cry, he and Ron both leap across the train compartment to attack me with their evil fingers. I am certain my eyes widened to a rather comical state.

After a few grueling torturous tickle minutes, they finally stopped. We are all grinning like mad. These two knuckleheads know how to make me happy. Then of course, Ron pulls another astonishing stunt of total foot in mouth placement.

"Say Hermy, you are getting a little squishy round the edges." Ron says with a grin and a wink. I have to fight my smile from slipping off my face. "At least I can assure mum that you've been eating, she was worried of course. We Weasleys love our girls with a bit of meat on their bones." I do not like the suggestiveness in his statement at all. I do not like his statement at all.

I think Ron is a sweet bloke, but I have never felt any attraction for him in anyway shape or form. His eating habits just shut that factory down.

It was at this point I knew, I had to lose some weight.

I had to lose it fast.


End file.
